


One night in Bradford

by Angels_in_Fishnets



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Drunken fluff, Fluff, M/M, definitely dubious knowledge of The North, guest appearance by Rebecca Bairstow, slightly dubious timelines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 14:56:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14751042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angels_in_Fishnets/pseuds/Angels_in_Fishnets
Summary: "There was a little bit of Chris which said there had to bereasonsnot to kiss your mate; despite the fact you definitely fancied him, if the state of your goosebumps were anything to go by.Still, he couldn't actually muster up any of those reasons right at that moment."What Jonny lacks in subtlety and alcohol tolerance he more than makes up for in hospitality.





	One night in Bradford

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jiminyneesham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminyneesham/gifts).



> Thanks to Fruitloopy for her beta read, any mistakes belong entirely to me.
> 
> Set approximately 2014.

“Get off the floor, Bairstow, you’re a fire hazard.”

“Very funny, a ginger joke, ha ha ha...”

Chris bent down to grab one of Jonny’s hands and tried to yank him up off the hallway carpet.

“No, it’s not. People are going to – oof – stand on you!”

He dropped the hand onto Jonny’s stomach. Without help, Chris wasn’t going to be getting his friend back on his feet any time soon. And since the help was currently busy taking photos to post on Instagram, he wondered if Jonny was going to wind up sleeping there.

“Let him alone,” said Rebecca, “He deserves getting stood on.”

She lowered her phone and appraised her brother thoughtfully, “ _And_ dying in a fire.”

Jonny tilted his head and squinted at her.

“Harsh. What’d I ever do to you?”

“What d’you want, a chuffin’ list?”

“Becky, please,” said Chris, “A little help?”

“Oh alright, but only ‘cos it’s you.”

Rebecca kicked Jonny in the thigh, then grabbed one hand while Chris grabbed the other. Together they worked to drag the redhead upright. Said redhead was steadfastly refusing to assist at all in this endeavour.

“Come on Woaksey,” he said cheerfully, “Put yer arse into it!”

Chris became aware that he was indeed using his backside as ballast, and blushed scarlet. Rebecca looked over at him and let out a cackle.

“My God, Christopher! Look at your face!”

The Bairstows, Chris thought, were not a subtle family.

Jonny, who up until that point had been resolutely keeping his head dropped backwards, lifted it to look at Chris’s face. The movement shifted him enough that Chris and Rebecca were able to haul him off the ground and into Chris’s shoulder.

“Sorry about your night out,” said Rebecca, “When I invited you both to pre-load with my friends, I didn’t expect this eejit to blow his entire load this quickly. Yet another reason Jonathan doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

Jonny gave her the fingers while Chris draped the smaller man’s other arm over his shoulder.

“It’s fine, I’ll get him home. Thanks for the invite.”

Rebecca kissed them both on the cheek before going back into her friend’s flat. Chris could hear gales of feminine laughter erupting before the door closed. He blushed again, even though he was almost certain the laughter wasn’t about him, and set about trying to navigate getting himself and Jonny down the narrow flight of stairs.

Jonny pressed close as they rounded the corner, Chris thought probably closer than was strictly necessary. That, combined with the fact Chris was none-too-sober himself, led to them both bumping off the wall with every step. He used the arm that wasn’t around Jonny’s waist to steady himself, and wondered what statement the ECB would give to the press if they were both found badly injured in a heap on the landing.

Fortunately he didn’t have to find out, making it to the door in one piece, where Jonny continued to be unhelpful. As Chris tried to get the thing open, Jonny slid one hand up into Chris’s hair in a way that gave him goosebumps and made him lose his grip on one of the deadbolts.

“You’re not making this any easier!” he hissed at Jonny, who was now carding his fingers through the taller man’s hair.

“Your hair’s so soft...”

Chris managed to get the door open despite the goosebumps, and gently removed Jonny’s hand while he held it with his foot.

“Be good, Jonny.”

Jonny laughed and lurched outside. “That’s the one! People can call me YJB...G! Young Jonny B Goode!”

Watching Jonny wander out to the road, and still with the feeling of fingers against his scalp, Chris looked down, muttered “Be good” again, and followed Jonny to the waiting taxi.

On the way home, Chris was pretty sure the driver recognised Jonny. Luckily he also definitely recognised the state Jonny was in, and didn’t try to make conversation. Chris did think he saw a couple of knowing glances being flicked his way, but he avoided them, even if he did feel his cheeks start to heat up.

Chris was relieved Jonny’s mother wasn't home. That had been one of the key features of Chris being invited to stay - “Mum’s in London for the weekend!” - as though they were 15 and not 25. Still, Chris was glad not to have to make awkward conversation while Jonny was being even less subtle than usual.

Once he managed to fit his keys in the lock and get inside, Jonny did what any self-respecting 15-year-old would do and went straight for the drinks cabinet. Soon two sloshing whisky-and-sodas were making their way over to where Chris was perched awkwardly on the couch. He thought about saying that Jonny shouldn’t drink any more, and besides, he didn’t even _like_ whisky. In the end he decided to save his breath, because he doubted Jonny would listen to either objection.

He took a swig from his glass, winced at how strong it was, and looked at his grinning friend.

“Dunno what you’re so happy about. You invite me for a night out in Bradford, and we’re home at ten because you don’t know how to pace yourself.”

“You should be happy, I saved you from a night out in Bradford. Saved you from ending up in bed with one of our Becky’s scrubby friends.” Jonny made a face, “Or our Becky.”

“I’ve got a girlfriend, I wasn’t going to end up in bed with your sister, or any of her friends.”

“You say that... But you’re blushing. I think you’re telling porkies.”

Chris wasn’t sure if he actually had been blushing when Jonny mentioned it, but now that Jonny had mentioned it, he definitely was.

“I'm not…” he started to protest, before realising Jonny was giggling. Chris sighed and took another gulp of his drink, trying to wince less this time. As he came up from his glass he saw Jonny had put his own drink down and had moved much closer, staring at Chris’s face intently.

“I like your blushy cheeks,” he muttered.

Chris could tell was coming next. “Don't…”

Too late. Jonny had pinched his cheek, though it was a much more gentle pinch than Chris remembered getting from aunts or friends of his mum. Indeed, it soon turned into Jonny's thumb stroking against his skin, and Chris was feeling goosebumps rise on the back of his neck again.

He turned to look at Jonny, and was immediately struck by those blue eyes, the way they seemed to make the hand on his cheek even hotter. He froze, chest suddenly tight, when Jonny kissed him.

And it wasn't that Jonny was in any way a bad kisser – even if he was a bit sloppy from the amount he'd been drinking and even if he did taste of whisky – but Chris didn't kiss him back straight away. There was a little bit of him which said there had to be reasons not to kiss your mate; despite the fact you definitely fancied him, if the state of your goosebumps were anything to go by.

Still, he couldn't actually muster up any of those reasons right at that moment. That might have been the alcohol, he figured, but after a good two seconds of trying to come up with them he decided he'd made enough effort and could just get on with the business of kissing.

Jonny didn't take Chris not kissing him back immediately much to heart. In fact, he merely paused briefly to thread his fingers back through Chris’s hair and renewed the kiss again.

When Chris started kissing him, Jonny made a noise of pleasure and pushed closer, trying to press their bodies together, only for Chris to squawk and pull away quickly.

“Bloody hell, I just spilled me drink everywhere!”

This was a minor exaggeration – his whisky and soda had slopped over his hand and run down the inside of his arm. Jonny peered at the glass then took it, set it deliberately on the table, and began to lick the trail of amber liquid that had meandered down Chris’s wrist and forearm.

Chris moaned. He couldn't help it, particularly when Jonny lightly dragged his teeth over the pulse that had begun thudding in his wrist.

“You taste good…” Jonny mumbled against the other man’s skin before sucking Chris's index finger into his mouth.

The feeling of Jonny's tongue against the pad of his finger, the warm wetness of Jonny's mouth, had a pronounced effect on Chris - one part of his anatomy in particular. Before he could stop himself he moaned Jonny's name.

Chris pulled his finger from the redhead's mouth, muting Jonny's protests by pushing him back and kissing him hard. Jonny sank backwards and Chris moved over him, sliding their bodies together. He was pleased to note that he wasn't the only one getting worked up.

Soon both men were breathing hard, though Chris was unwilling to break the kiss while Jonny's hand was under his shirt and he was dragging his fingers up the taller man's spine.

Despite this unwillingness, Chris was beginning to think this wasn't the ideal situation. Snogging on the couch was all very well, but he was becoming more aware that his foot was slipping as he tried to keep himself from headbutting Jonny. More than that, the pair of them were getting off in full view of anyone who walked into the house. He did not want to have to explain this to Rebecca, or to be frank, absolutely anyone.

As he shuffled his foot, slipped a bit, and just about managed to save himself by pretending he was going in for a kiss on Jonny's neck, Chris opened his mouth to suggest they take this to the bedroom.

Before he could say that, however, he froze. Moving to the bedroom created an expectation of where the night was going, and he wasn't sure he quite wanted to go there. He had a girlfriend, after all. And besides, Jonny was drunk. Chris didn't want to push his luck and end up being more of his mate’s morning-after regret than he already was.

While Chris was thinking himself into a twist, Jonny was untroubled by any pangs of concern. Chris tasted good, Chris was very good at kissing - and best of all, Chris was finally actually kissing him! Thinking too hard could ruin everything, so he didn't bother thinking at all.

Then Chris stopped kissing. Jonny, never one to let an opportunity go to waste, used the pause to tug Chris’s t-shirt up and over his head. But then, rather than getting on with it, newly-shirtless Chris just looked at him as though he had been doing some ruinously serious thinking.

“Jonny, I don't think we should do this. Not now. And definitely not here.”

“I've got a room. It's my house an' everything.”

Chris squeezed his eyes closed, “Not… Not tonight.”

The feeling of Jonny's stomach where his shirt had ridden up against his own shirtless torso was testing his resolve immensely. He so badly wanted to take advantage, but knew he couldn't bear to do anything that might be considered ‘taking advantage’. Chris opened his eyes again.

“Not tonight.”

Jonny, his baby-blues slightly hazy, looked so disappointed that Chris almost wanted to laugh. So much for being his mate’s morning-after regret.

“But another night?” asked Jonny eagerly, “There can be another night?”

Chris grinned and kissed him lightly.

“Yeah,” he said as he eased his weight onto his tingling foot and slowly got up, “Yeah there could definitely be another night.”

 


End file.
